


Menagerie

by GlitterGluwu



Series: Assorted Minifics [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caught, Coming Untouched, Fantasizing, Female Alpha/Male Omega, Fluff and Angst, Foot Fetish, Genderbending, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Omega Sylvain, Panties, Public Masturbation, Scenting, Self-Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Sex Pollen, Sibling Incest, Strap-Ons, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Tsundere Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterGluwu/pseuds/GlitterGluwu
Summary: Continued minifics for Fire Emblem: Three Houses.Chapter 1: Caspar/Linhardt/Ferdinand, rated E, sex pollenChapter 2: Sylvain solo, rated E, A/B/O, masturbationChapter 3: Dimitri/Sylvain/Felix, rated E, mutual masturbationChapter 4: Black Eagles Orgy, rated MChapter 5: Edelgard/Fem!Ferdinand/Fem!Hubert, rated M, cumming untouchedChapter 6: Dimitri/Sylvain, rated T, Seven Minutes in Heaven, AngstChapter 7: Caspar solo, rated M, panty sniffingChapter 8: Mercedes/Sylvain, rated T, A/B/O, scentingChapter 9: Randolph/Caspar, rated E, loud sex/incestChapter 10: Caspar/Hilda, rated M, Movie theater sexChapter 11: Claude/Lorenz, rated E, foot fetishChapter 12: Dimitri/Felix, rated E, incestChapter 13: Dimitri/Edelgard, rated E, voyeurismChapter 14: Dimitri/Felix, rated E, footjobsChapter 15: Ferdinand/Linhardt, rated E, 69, dubcon????
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring/Ferdinand von Aegir, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Randolph von Bergliez/Caspar von Bergliez, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Everyone, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Series: Assorted Minifics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618864
Comments: 26
Kudos: 158





	1. Caspferdihardt

**Author's Note:**

> Well! I'm back again, because of course I had more minifics in me. (When will you write more full-length fics, Lucinda???) Whoops?
> 
> As always, the majority of these are not at all connected to one another unless otherwise stated. I will pass no judgment on anybody who skips any chapter for any reason. These are just fun for myself, and hopefully for you!
> 
> I hope these are to your liking. c:

Goddess bless Caspar and his stamina, because Linhardt would never have held out this long; his legs would surely have melted out from under him if he tried.

The equipment he was working with likely helped, of course, but Ferdinand himself was a demanding presence even on a normal day - and by whatever functional measure could be used to encapsulate this situation, this quality in him had been amplified by several orders of magnitude. Even now, as Linhardt wearily watched sweat darkening the hair at Caspar’s temples or the red marks where his harness chafed at his sides, Ferdinand’s gasping pleads for “more” and “yes” and  _ “Harder, please, Caspar, I need -”  _ showed no signs of stopping.

They’d been at this for hours, and as hard and dripping as Ferdinand so visibly was, he had not reached climax even once. They needed a new strategy.

“Caspar, would you care to entertain a theory of mine?” Linhardt spoke up. He paused to take a sip of water while his boyfriend sent him an incredulous glance.

_ “Now?” _ Caspar said, ragged and under-enunciated. He was reaching his limit; Linhardt’s turn to tap in was fast approaching anyway, so what was there to lose?

“Well, clearly  _ this _ isn’t working. We’re just being forced to trade in for one another when we’re not yet fully recovered oursel - do be quiet, Ferdinand - ourselves. So what might you do with an army if a single-pronged attack is sure to fail?”

Caspar’s eyes fluttered closed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Dear man, his already-poor brain faculties were running overtime. “A pincer…?”

“Very good, Caspar! Off with your harness, then. We’re going to attack from both sides.”

Caspar blinked slowly, his hips slowing to a halt; Ferdinand of course immediately voiced his objection, his limbs quivering underneath him as he sobbed with need, but Caspar at last connected the dots and dismounted entirely. He briefly fell against Linhardt’s shoulder as he stood and Linhardt allowed him to lean there as he limply loosened his straps enough to send his strap-on falling to the ground, the best and only comfort he was presently capable of offering.

Their work was not yet done, after all.

“Get underneath him,” Linhardt patiently instructed, speaking into the sweat-soaked hollow of Caspar’s neck, and Caspar, with a heavy sigh, did as he was instructed. Ferdinand fell into him the moment he got close enough, but now that his momentum was interrupted it was clearly all Caspar could do just to get into position; he lay flat on his stomach with his head pillowed by his arms and Ferdinand immediately dove in, pressing his cock between Caspar’s cheeks and humping for all he was worth.

“Settle, Ferdinand,” Linhardt said tiredly as he crawled up behind him. Would that he could justify taking Caspar’s position instead, but goddess knew his boyfriend had earned it. No, now was his time to force Ferdinand’s hips into stillness as he guided himself in.

Ferdinand cried out, his fingers fisting in whatever remained of the perfect, well-made sheets of before. His hips stuttered forward and then backward, as if he was making an offer, allowing Linhardt and Caspar the momentary respite in letting him exert the lion’s share of the effort; Linhardt found he had no objection. He tilted his head back as Ferdinand moved, letting his mouth fall open in a silent keen.

But Caspar - Caspar was the shining star in all this, because however obscured he may have been visually, Linhardt could  _ hear _ him again. He hadn’t even realized how dearly he had missed Caspar’s voice, so animalian and brutal in contrast with Ferdinand’s insipid begging.

“Ferdinand,” Linhardt grated out, high and wanton even to his own ears, “You’d best - s-stay out of strange bushes -” he shuddered around a gasp - “because I am  _ not _ doing this again.”

Even if Caspar’s bark of breathless laughter made it all worth it.


	2. Sylvain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write someone jerking off, so I ran a poll and Sylvain won! And then I saw that the Omega Sylvain Week tag was getting a ton of hate, so I made this omega Sylvain so I could toss some positivity in there. I love exploring the politics of omegaverse, so this has a little discussion of some of that process in there. It also mentions Sylvain fantasizing about a LOT of different people, so bear in mind that you might not like all of them and, also, that I don't particularly care if that's the case.

Sylvain was the rare omega who didn’t actually mind heats too much; he passed most of them alone because he wasn’t stupid, but even then the “alone” he felt during heat was a whole different beast than the “alone” he felt any other time. During heat, his mind was too full of  _ need _ and  _ knot _ and the tidal wave of sensation pulsing through his body to linger all that much on less pleasant subjects. In a way, it was a welcome reprieve from the pressing nothingness that was his thoughts any other day.

Today wasn’t like that, though. Today he took it slow, carving out time in his schedule to just  _ feel _ the way he hardly dared most of the time. Today he held himself face-down, ass-up and panted blissfully into his pillowcase as he slowly, purposefully tugged on his cock, already feeling slick trickling down over his perineum.

There was something  _ good _ about having the chance to pleasure himself when his mind wasn’t already too full to properly savor it. He didn’t really get to fantasize when he was addled by heat - but today? He swallowed down a whine as his mind roamed, catching on snippets of the alphas he knew from around the monastery. 

Dedue would be firm and soft all at once, perhaps scolding him for being too selfish - or perhaps serving him as eagerly as he served his liege, lapping in an efficient, orderly way at his hole, milking his cock and speaking in an even, steady voice even as he came a little undone himself. He was every omega’s dream when they envisioned the kind of strong, yet sweet alpha they’d like to protect and be protected by.

Annette would be a lot of things that Dedue wouldn’t; ultimately, being mated by her would likely be a practice in serving rather than being served, which was enticing in its own way. He could picture her now, putting on a brave, impassable front only to come to the point of humping desperately at his hole, flushed all the way down to her chest and up to her ears, teardrops like pinpricks forming on her lashes and refusing to fall. He would tell her it’s okay if she came and she would whine at his condescension, but ultimately succumb.

His highness - it very nearly felt wrong to imagine, after knowing him so long, after having  _ been _ there for so many of the same events that made him  _ him. _ But perhaps that would make it all the more rewarding, the contrast between someone he had loved so dearly for so long versus all the vapid, one-day attachments he brought back to his room with him. Perhaps it would be all the better to listen to Dimitri’s sweet, sincere voice in his ear, making tender promises he could never hope to keep.

His hole throbbed, begging, but that wasn’t the name of the game this time. Sylvain groaned and rolled over, still drawing it out, letting his imagination flicker over his other options - he’d had a rather unpleasant run-in with Hilda fairly recently, Petra was cute but it felt kind of wrong to exploit her like that, Raphael was sincere to an  _ uncomfortable _ degree…

Sylvain whined and humped upward into his hand, wanting, wanting - and in his desperation he landed on a series of thoughts he rarely allowed himself to entertain, and never before he was at least three-quarters of the way to orgasm. He thought of Dorothea’s supple curves, of Ingrid’s wide, jewel-colored eyes, of the slender arch of Felix’s neck -

But ultimately Mercedes’s voice was the one he pictured, soft and feathery and completely, undeniably omegan, devoid of the denial he could affix to the others. He covered his mouth and gasped into his palm, imagining Mercedes stroking his hair, whispering that it was alright, he had done such a good job, it was time to let go. He could feel ghost sensations of her gentle hands as he planted his heels and bucked, releasing in watery spurts over his fingers.

It was moments like these that made nights alone rewarding, rather than unbearable - moments when he ignored what society demanded of him and caved to the most real parts of him, the parts that craved sweet scents and maternal whispers over power and domination.


	3. Dimisylvix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love that trope where one person teaches others how to masturbate, and I feel like these three are perfect candidates for it. I wish there was an easier tag for it that I could search, I wanna read more like this!
> 
> They're unspecified ages, but implied to be young, so back away if that ain't your thing. It's also somewhat more Dimivain-focused than on Felix, so that's also worth considering! (I was actually really relieved to learn that I'm not the only one with strong preferences with this OT3, so I completely understand if your preferences conflict.)

“Just keep moving your hands, okay? I promise it’ll - feel  _ really _ good soon,” Sylvain grunted, just the littlest bit embarrassed at how his breath caught in the middle. This was one more area where Felix and Dimitri cowed themselves to his expertise - he didn’t want them to catch on to how aroused  _ he _ was, with or without his hand moving over his erect cock.

Not that they had noticed; when he spared them a glance, he saw Felix just on the border of tears, his hips and legs writhing this way and that, half-formed vocalizations escaping his throat, and Dimitri wasn’t doing much better. Rather, on closer inspection, Sylvain saw Dimitri’s available fist clutching the corner of the rug, threatening to tear even while his other hand stilled. His eyes were pressed tightly closed, his chest visibly moving with the force of his breaths.

Sylvain swallowed down whatever arousal he could, then piped up. “‘Mitri?” he asked, and through the ruffled bars of his unkempt bangs Dimitri met his eyes, unfocused and panting. “What’s up?”

Dimitri’s eyes closed again, his brow furrowed. His mouth opened, hung agape for a moment, and finally formed the words “I-I’m - losing control -”

Sylvain stiffened in alarm. “Of your strength?” he asked, and after a second Dimitri nodded. “Are you… Does it hurt? Can you finish?”

Dimitri was all but stock still. He pried his hand from his cock, and Sylvain thought privately that he still  _ looked _ aroused, hard and weeping and flushed bright red like that. An idea wound its way into his mind, bringing a warm smile to his face, bringing his hand away from his own dick and held out to his friend. “Dima, c’mere,” he said softly, “I’ll help.”

He blinked in confusion, then seemed to understand; he forced his clumsy, stiff legs to cooperate, forced himself across the room, leaving a near-weeping Felix to fall into the space where he’d been, humping into his hand and crying out for his Dima, even as close as he still was.

Dimitri deposited himself into Sylvain’s lap as he had so many times before, pitching forward to rest his forehead against Sylvain’s, and oh, this was new. Sylvain had never had hot breath gusting against his skin while he touched himself - though now he reached for Dimitri’s cock, stabilizing him with the other hand while he wrapped the first around him. Dimitri cried out as if on command, gripping Sylvain’s sleeve or his own shirt, his cheeks slick with sweat and tears.

“I’ll - take care of you,” Sylvain mumbled, still deeply aroused, marveling at the delight of warmth across his lap, of dewy eyes and reddened face so close where he could feel it. Maybe that was why Felix was sobbing loud enough that he could hear, even then - he’d lost his Dima’s precious warmth beside him, desperate for that heated pressure even if he couldn’t say why.

Preoccupied as Sylvain was, he still felt for him, so he reached around Dimitri, holding out his hand, and Felix seemed to understand. He didn’t speak when he wriggled closer, but Sylvain felt soft fingers in his, barely managing to clasp his hand before Felix cried out louder than ever, then fell quiet. Sylvain gazed persistently into Dimitri’s eyes.

“It’s okay, Dima,” he mumbled, husky even to his own ears, wanting and needing and feeling more than he’d ever felt, “You can let go. I’ve got you.”

His eyelashes, so bright and so blonde, were dyed brown with tears. The crown prince sniffed, falling forward into Sylvain’s neck, shuddering around his own release, and Felix whined because he’d been leaning against Dimitri’s back - but Sylvain held out his arm, and Felix tucked himself underneath it.

He never finished - Sylvain reflected later that it was perhaps the most selfless he’d ever been in bed, tucked there between his two beloved friends.


	4. Black Eagles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I haven't written nearly enough of the Other Black Eagle girls. Number one on my list is Bernadetta, namely with Hubert.... Which means I gotta figure out who I'd pair Petra with if I wrote her into a minific. Maybe Ignatz? I can't help it, I go ham when I see her in their B support lmao. I should also write more CasThea, there's never enough CasThea.... Do I ship Caspar with too many people????
> 
> Oh, right, I wrote a minific. Well, they're all going to fuck basically

Hubert was already seated with Edelgard by the time the rest of the former Black Eagles began to file in for their ten-year anniversary dinner. Edelgard had been the first to voice her surprise that they’d all been able to come - Caspar and Linhardt had very little reason to be there by now, for starters - but Ferdinand, ever the optimist, had been eager to explain that Her Majesty had affected all of them in a very significant way, and their presence was the least they could offer. 

Speaking of Ferdinand. Edelgard shifted in her seat as Caspar and Linhardt approached the head of the table to greet her, more than accustomed to the castle’s layout and her company after so long in residence. Caspar was as audacious as ever, obtusely ignoring their typical seating arrangements and sliding into Ferdinand’s seat. “Hi, guys! Weird, I expected Ferdinand to be here already.”

Oh, this buffoon. Hubert exchanged a look with Linhardt, who had shown similar disregard for the general order of things and slid into the seat beside Caspar, responding to Hubert’s unvoiced ire with a noncommittal shrug. Edelgard puffed quietly while Hubert replied, “He is otherwise occupied, for the moment. He’ll join us further into the evening.”

Linhardt carefully observed Edelgard’s flushed face, quirked his eyebrow, and said, “Attending to critical matters of state, I see.” He took up Caspar’s wine goblet and drank deep, seeming to relish how Hubert’s eye twitched.

Never mind them. Soon enough, they’d be off on their grand honeymoon adventure and all of Enbarr would be more peaceful for it.

Dorothea had paraded in during all this, making a beeline straight for the head of the table. She dipped and gave Edelgard a tight embrace, warmly announcing “Edie! Oh, it’s been too long - the brown hair suits you!”

“Does no one have any regard for proper courtly manners in here?” Linhardt quipped, appearing to find humor in his own hypocrisy, and Dorothea huffed as she parted from Edelgard.

“Oh, do forgive me, Lin. Next time I’ll make haste with making myself comfortable in my assigned seat, just as you’ve done with Caspar’s lap,” she coyly replied. Before parting from Edelgard, she dipped down for a kiss to her temple and murmured, “My regards to Ferdie, dear.”

Edelgard tittered, but it came out too high, too breathy - Caspar looked over in curiosity and asked, “Hey, are you okay, Edelgard? Awfully quiet over there.”

Edelgard took a deep breath, shifted in her seat, and called to Petra and Bernadetta as they made their way over rather than answering. “It’s a pleasure to see you both,” she said, and she was better at this these days, so much more so than when they were younger, only just stumbling into their first sexual endeavors. It was only just so, however, because her voice stopped Petra in her tracks.

“Your majesty,” she mused, her brow knitting in confusion, “You are sounding unwell.”

Bernadetta’s face seemed to morph between a few emotions, settling at last on an odd, tense smile and a full-faced blush. After so long knowing her, Hubert was hardly surprised; she may have been a loner, but she was no stranger to the erotic. She leaned over and whispered into Petra’s ear.

“I see.” Petra’s brow furrowed. “You are having my apologies, Edelgard. You should have been telling us that you were wanting to eat elsewhere. Enbarr is having many wonderful places to be eating out.”

Linhardt snorted rather gracelessly into his -  _ Caspar’s - _ wine, and Dorothea groaned theatrically. “Oh, dearest Petra,” she sighed, “I was hoping we could draw out the fun for a little while longer. After all, Edie’s so  _ cute _ like that.” She finished on a wink, and Edelgard knotted her fingers in the tablecloth. 

“M-my apologies for… getting started,” she faltered. Her brows were tented - Hubert reached for her knee under the table and grazed Ferdinand’s shoulder instead, not minding in the slightest. “It’s just - you all know h-how much preparation I need.”

There were a couple croons of sympathy, but not from Caspar. His eyebrows were knit in confusion still, but then, all at once, it all seemed to hit him. He threw up the tablecloth and directed a grin underneath it. “Ferdinand! I thought I felt something down there. I’m next, right?”

“Why wait?” Linhardt hummed, almost sounding bored - but if the way he pawed at Caspar’s chest was any indication, he was anything but.

Hubert suppressed the urge to roll his eyes - after all, he’d been waiting for this event for quite some time - and instead cast a glance at Edelgard’s humiliated, but no less endeared, expression. She met his eye, gave him a gentle smile, and then folded open before him as if Ferdinand had done something truly expert with his tongue.

A hand found his knee as his eyes drank in her unfamiliar, pale brown hair, and Hubert could all but  _ hear _ Ferdinand saying  _ Do not fret, Hubert. After all, there is much to celebrate tonight! _


	5. EdelFerdiBert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was taking requests the other night and a friend asked me for EdelFerdibert where they're all girls. And also, cumming from kissing!!! Because she'd never read anything with that in it.
> 
> Fern/Fernanda = Ferdinand  
> Berthe = Hubert

Fern was the newest to their triad, and it stood to reason that she was less experienced than either Edelgard or herself - but Berthe hadn’t quite expected just how  _ sensitive _ she could be.

The first time Fern had gasped and jerked away from a hand on her thigh, Berthe had been cross; she’d assumed it was out of her exaggerated sense of propriety, but in the time since - in exchanging kisses or watching her do so with Edelgard - Berthe grew to understand one thing very well. Fern’s twitching, her uninhibited gasps, and her unconscious jerking of her hips were all a symptom of her virginal sensitivity.

Edelgard was no fool, either. She had been just as eager to see how far they could push as Berthe had.

As such, the next time they convened in Edelgard’s quarters was as good an opportunity as any. “Fernanda, let me do your hair.”

Fern straightened the same way she so often did - with a stiffness to her shoulders and a brightness to her eyes - and chirped, “Berthe! I would never have thought you would have any interest in such endeavors.”

“Berthe’s been doing my hair since we were young,” Edelgard explained, giving Berthe a coy smile as she stood behind their love. “She’s gotten quite good at it - I’ll admit, I’m quite intrigued by her plans for you.”

“I fear my hair is not long enough to do anything as intricate as your stylings, Edelgard!” Fern hummed, leaning eagerly back into Berthe’s touch as she drew her gloved fingertips through reddish-gold locks. It was full but straggly at the ends, belying the lack of care it had been subjected to through the war; Berthe clicked her tongue, considering whether Fern would tolerate a haircut from her experienced hands. “I will admit, I am excited to contemplate the possibilities!”

“I have no plans for anything particularly complex,” Berthe murmured, making sections of Fern’s hair and carefully allowing a few gently curling strands to slip out and frame her face. “Only a braid.”

Fern audibly pouted, but Edelgard covered it with a warm chuckle. “Don’t be like that, Fern,” she hummed, edging closer on the loveseat and leaning into Fern’s side. “I say it becomes you quite nicely.”

“Does it?” Fern asked, her voice taking on a hopeful lilt, and turned her head into Edelgard’s kiss. Fern released a short, surprised noise, then seemed to melt into it; Berthe observed them coolly as she finished the braid and tied it off with the ribbon Fern had been wearing earlier. Their lips moved warmly against each other, pushing and pulling with tantalizing elasticity as Fern’s small, throaty sounds pitched higher.

Berthe bent at the waist, brushing Fern’s braid to the side and taking a moment to inhale the scent she’d applied to her neck. It was floral, but tasteful - never too strong, never too ostentatious. Berthe chuckled to think of Fern in their time at the academy, when she had all but trailed a miasma of her chosen scent in her wake.

A couple of light touches to Fern’s neck - a trace of the tip of her nose there, a peck here - and her voice burst out of her in fits and starts. Berthe saw her hips rut forward of their own accord past the curve of her breasts, her breath already so heated that Berthe could hear it fizzling against Edelgard’s skin. Then Fern turned her head, opening her mouth as if to beg for mercy, and Edelgard dove in to smother her neck in kisses as well. Berthe was left to attend to that troublesome mouth, and that was precisely what she did.

Fern was hardly an active participant by now, which Berthe didn’t mind in the least. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, dove for a deep, hot kiss, and retreated again to touch their lips once, twice -

“S-stop -” Fern gasped, grabbing, finding Edelgard’s steadying hand with her shaking one. “Oh,” she breathed, letting her head fall back, and Berthe could  _ see _ her thighs quivering, quivering to the same rhythm as her desperate moans.

She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Edelgard. She understood Fern was sensitive, but this…

“Fern,” Edelgard said, stunned, as Fern let out all the tension in her body and seemed to melt downward, seeming almost not herself at all, “Did you just…”

Fern blinked, then blinked again, then appeared to turn very pink, very fast. “Oh!” she laughed nervously, “How… dreadfully embarrassing.”

Berthe raised her eyebrows. Edelgard seemed at a loss for words, and so did Fern; she did swallow visibly, however, and reluctantly look to Berthe, as if she felt ashamed and was, inexplicably, coming to  _ her _ for comfort.

Whether she found it there, Berthe couldn’t say. She was too swept up in her own amusement, in coyly covering her wicked grin and whispering, “I daresay this  _ begs _ further investigation, Lady Edelgard.”


	6. DimiVain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set out to write something dumb and cute because I had a hankering for fics featuring Juvenile Party Games like spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven (And there is a surprising amount of fics for those in the FE3H tag???? Some pretty good content I definitely recommend) BUT THEN IT ENDED UP KINDA SAD

Dimitri despairingly wished that Sylvain had chosen a different referee for their little game as Felix bodily thrust him into the dark, enclosed space. Sylvain was similarly committed to their seven-minute prison shortly thereafter, only able to utter the first half of the question “You’ll keep time for us, won’t you?” before the door was slammed in both of their faces.

“You’ll come out when I damn well say you can,” Felix huffed, and Dimitri heard the click of the lock as if Felix had wilfully used it to punctuate the sentiment. He’d hardly so much as offered them an opportunity to straighten themselves, and even in the dark Dimitri was keenly aware of just how Sylvain had fallen against him.

He seemed to make an attempt, however poorly, to re-align himself immediately after Dimitri had the thought; he felt a hand brace against his shoulder before relocating itself to the abrasive stone wall behind him, pushing Sylvain backward with a grunt. “Figures it’d be the two largest participants in here at the same time,” Sylvain chuckled, and Dimitri felt one of his knees jostle his own before he delicately moved his leg aside. “Hey, what’re the odds Felix just  _ forgets _ and never lets us out?”

Dimitri wanted to laugh, but it hardly seemed appropriate. “High,” he replied simply, and Sylvain snorted. Dimitri could feel his breath when he did it, stuttering against his lips in some blithe mockery of their implied purpose there. He turned his head to stifle the feeling.

Truth be told, he hadn’t been this close to anyone in… He couldn’t remember when. Surely one of the girls had hugged him, yes? It was a struggle even to  _ think _ when…

“I mean, it’s my own fault,” Sylvain tittered. “Felix didn’t want to play to begin with, so of course I  _ had _ to tease him more when my turn came.”

His eyes were adjusting to the dark, bit by bit. There was a faint glow from beneath the doorway, casting weak yellow light over their feet. Sylvain had removed his boots. Dimitri had not.

“Sorry, Your Highness, I’m just - trying to get comfortable,” Sylvain murmured, and shifted, and abruptly fell against him again. Dimitri felt skin glance over his cheek, then heard a thump and Sylvain saying “Shit.”

Dimitri turned his head on impulse, trying to see what couldn’t be seen. There were only blurred shapes, only the dry sound of Sylvain’s lips parting. “Sylvain?”

“Bumped my head,” came the reply. “This closet’s… Smaller than it looks.”

“You fell…”

“My foot slipped on something.”

He’d expected the dark. He’d expected the closeness, to some degree. He hadn’t expected how  _ hot _ it was in this enclosed space, with Sylvain pressed against him. And he did press, harder now, trying to find his footing again - or at least, that was what Dimitri assumed from the glance of his pelvis against his own.

“Dimitri?”

“Hm?”

A laugh. “Uh, say something? It’s getting sort of weird, being this close to you.” He paused, and Dimitri searched for something to say. “Not that I mind too much. It’s just, you know, when I brought this game up, I figured I’d be with a girl.”

Dimitri felt his mouth curl into a smile. “I’m… Not terribly certain what I was hoping for, when I joined in.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to, to be honest.” Another pause. Dimitri could feel his chest expanding with each breath, then another shifting, as if Sylvain had caught wind of his tension and was trying to dispel it.

“Don’t,” Dimitri said, surprising even himself. Sylvain held himself taut, his cheek pressed to Dimitri’s, their chests so close together that Dimitri imagined he could feel Sylvain’s heartbeat in tandem with his. He struggled with his words for a moment longer. “Would it be so terrible, just to hold each other for seven minutes?” he proposed, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

Sylvain’s breath was damp. His hair tickled Dimitri’s nose. He made an odd little noise, one that Dimitri wasn’t certain how to interpret, and mumbled, “I guess not.” 

Sylvain settled against him, seeming to lean into this strange new turn. He couldn’t quite wrap his arms around Dimitri, crushed as he was against the wall, but Dimitri did make his own effort at ensconcing Sylvain in his. He turned into the side of Sylvain’s head, briefly startled by the coolness of his ear, and breathed in.

He thought of the embraces they’d shared, back when they were younger and Sylvain was the coolest person he’d ever met.

“This may be an odd question to ask,” he murmured unbidden, a sick feeling working its way up through his chest, “But… Have you ever missed someone so very much, although you see them every single day?”

Sylvain was quiet. His hands fisted in Dimitri’s blazer, his shoulders rose with his next breath, and he remained so, so quiet.


	7. Caspar solo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a kink meme fill!!! [Here's the original post.](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=83420) For convenience's sake, the prompt was as follows:  
> "Caspar sniffing dorothea’s panties. That’s it, that’s the prompt."
> 
> And, well, any excuse to write the blue boy, lmao. I have my eye on a couple other prompts to fill once I've finished the first chapter of my multichap, so look forward to those!

The tragic thing about most stupid people is that they don’t realize they’re stupid. At least, not when they’re in the process of  _ being _ stupid.

It took Felix throwing a particularly potent barb at him about how he’d never train with the kind of pervert that does what Caspar does for him to realize just how stupid  _ he _ had been. Caspar exchanged a perplexed look with Raphael, who, he was only then realizing, was flushed all the way up to his ears.

“You don’t have any sisters, do ya?” Raphael asked him. Caspar shook his head. “Uh, that ‘sweat rag’ of yours…”

Well, the long and the short of it was that Caspar was just becoming aware that he may indeed have been one of those stupid people.

He didn’t pause to think he wouldn’t be able to show his face in the training hall again, that’d be even dumber than what he’d done in the first place. They were good guys in there! He just had to explain that he didn’t  _ know. _

Which… was maybe its own kind of stupid, because now that he was  _ looking _ at the thing in the privacy of his room, it should’ve been obvious. They were so delicate, the same color as his hair - at least, they had been before he’d smeared a bunch of training hall grime and sweat on them - of course they belonged to a girl.

Yeah, to look at it… That part went  _ there, _ obviously, and that part…

He let the - the  _ thing - _ fall and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. Yeah, he was all kinds of stupid. He had a lot of people to apologize to, and he  _ hated _ apologizing. Sometimes it got real inconvenient how his primary impulse was to fight first, ask questions later.

Could he even return them at this point…? He could wash them, yeah, but he wasn’t sure how to treat fabric this delicate, let alone whether he could get those kinds of stains out of something  _ sturdier. _ Add whoever owned these to the list of people he needed to apologize to. He really doubted they’d want to put his filth on their…

He covered his eyes as his face grew hot. Fuck, yeah, this went  _ there, _ didn’t it? This thing had touched…

Well, hey, he was a growing boy! It was natural to be curious, huh? Maybe it was time to bury them in his deepest drawer and have some alone time.

Caspar peeked down at their lacy edges between his fingers, the remnants of pale blue peeking through smears of black and brown. His own sweat probably dominated any other… Uh, fluids. On them. He leaned over the edge of his bed and scooped them up again, stretching them between his hands and just taking a moment to appreciate the aesthetic of them, tilting them this way and that.

On a girl’s body, these would look… Really, really nice. Even with all the smears.

He tilted them toward him, looking down at the part that went - well,  _ there - _ and there, independent of his own grime, was a little white streak down the length of it. It made his breath catch in his throat, his dick -

Uh, ew, he was going to keep his dick out of this. Or maybe he shouldn’t? Maybe this was supposed to happen. This was such uncharted territory for him, he wasn’t sure what to think about  _ any _ of it. But that little white stripe seemed to call to him, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure his door was locked. Then he bunched them up, pressed them to his nose, and pulled them away again.

His hands were shaking. He’d never shaken like this, not even before his first proper fight. He wasn’t even sure he’d gotten a proper whiff. He took a deep breath, then did it again, slower this time.

Caspar mostly smelled his own sweat. But underneath that, if he focused in right on that central strip, there was something else, this pungent, even metallic odor…

His lips parted and he just held them there, pulling them between his hands, breathing them in for a moment. His next breath shuddered on its way in and his overloaded brain shuffled between explanations, wondering who this could be, who was coating his sinuses. There were a lot of really nice girls he could think of, Annette, Hilda…

Maybe Dorothea. Goosebumps trailed up the back of his neck at the thought. Without even thinking, his tongue darted out to taste. That first touch, that first taste, seemed to spread through his mouth, laying thickly over his palate, pulling heavy breaths out of him.

His dick was  _ really _ hard now. Maybe harder than ever.

It was time to stop. Okay, now. One, two, three. Come on.

He couldn’t do it.

With a sigh and another deep, full-body huff, Caspar fondled his bulge and lay back, cloaked in her scent - whoever she was.


	8. MerSyl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got hit by a big bout of That Sweet Depression at the worst possible time and this ended up being my only fill for Omega Sylvain Week..... Maybe I'll finish the full-length fic I had planned later, but for now I'm just gonna let myself be happy with this. I love Mercie as an alpha c:

“Mercedes!” Sylvain called, trotting up behind her as she strolled, quite leisurely, in the direction of the dining hall. She turned as he approached, offering him a smile as gentle and as patient as ever. “Glad I caught you,” he announced as he arrived at her side, touching his fingers to her shoulder in the most ostentatious flirtation he dared with her. “I was hoping you could help me with a little problem.”

“Me? Well, I can certainly try,” she hummed. Her tone was unassuming, but Sylvain wasn’t an idiot; he knew a gullible, eager-to-please alpha who would shower him in free drinks from a proper  _ Alpha, _ and Mercedes was anything but the former. What could he say? Sylvain was in the mood for pretending at real love for a night, sue him. “What can I help you with?”

Sylvain offered up his best pout.  _ “Well,” _ he sighed, “my date for tonight cancelled -”

“How rude.”

“I know, right? But she cancelled on me last minute, and I got tickets for the playactor’s guild. I could just reschedule, but it’s their last night in town, and I  _ could _ go on my own, but… You know how rowdy  _ those _ crowds can get.”

“What a dilemma,” Mercedes sighed, though her tone maintained an air of playfulness; “It would be terribly frightening for a lonely, vulnerable omega to be mixed in with that crowd.”

“Exactly! So I was wondering if, perhaps, you knew of any fair Alpha ladies who would be my escort for the evening? I’d  _ hate _ to miss it,” he replied, dropping a wink. She chuckled into her hand.

“Well, Sylvain, I do have a dilemma of my own. Perhaps while I consider a recommendation, you can help me out in turn?”

“Gladly.”

“I’ve been tasked with keeping one very charming omega out of trouble,” Mercedes began, never dropping her cheer or her smile. Sylvain’s heart sank. “His closest friends tell me he doesn’t listen to reason and that, although he’s from a noble family himself, he has a habit of charming the gold right out of alphas’ wallets.”

“Sounds like a problem.”

“The real trouble is that his friends are  _ worried,” _ Mercedes continued. She met Sylvain’s eye, at last letting her smile fall, and Sylvain couldn’t help but break the contact; he scratched uncomfortably at his collar, tracing the imprint of the Gautier Crest where it was pressed into the leather. “If he ruins his chances at marriage, he could find himself disowned - or worse.”

“Look, I -”

“But,” she cut him off, “I know I can’t dissuade him altogether. And, because I believe that giving him what he wants is only going to hurt rather than help, I  _ think _ I have a better solution.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows and turned back to her, but not before he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He went without resistance, stunned into silence as she pulled him to her and began nosing along the firm leather of his collar. Her lips brushed the sensitive, slightly chafed skin above it before she passed her tongue over it, quick, businesslike, stimulating just enough to make him shudder and press his nose into her gland in turn. Her scent was sort of nutty, powdery like baking flour, and he nuzzled it mindlessly before she pulled him closer, rubbing together their cheeks, their necks, and even, he realized, their wrists.

He felt dizzy with it, and that, perhaps, was stupid of him; he’d endured much more salacious advances from alphas before, ones even less telegraphed than this one. There was a  _ tenderness _ to it, though, that made his knees go weak. Most of the time, he prided himself on belonging to everyone and no one, but now -

“There,” Mercedes purred into his ear, “Now I can protect you from afar.” She pulled back all at once, giving him her sweetest smile. “Enjoy the play.”

Sylvain pressed a hand to his heart as she stepped away, still flooded with her scent on all sides. Enjoy the play, she’d said - as if he’d be able to focus on that,  _ now. _


	9. Bergliecest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend commented "How's it feel to be the best Caspar writer" and then called this my "love letter to a loud little hamster man" so. I guess it's official, I love Caspar too much fjdalfkjewq
> 
> I'm really surprised I haven't seen more Randolph around..... I haven't seen any Bergliecest before but DANG if I gotta feed myself I guess that's what I'll do lmao

Caspar was harder than his brother. In… a few ways.

He was harder to resent, because he did earnestly work for the rights and the position he enjoyed within the Imperial army. Randolph hadn’t even  _ met _ him before the battle at Garreg Mach, but it took only that one night for him to understand that Caspar’s bravado in battle was far from where his virtues ended. Randolph knew, although he was a stepson and Caspar a second son, their relative positions put them on somewhat even footing.

The second, somewhat connected to the first, was in the makeup of his physique. Caspar trained hard, and though he had trouble putting up mass, he was clearly built for power. Once his growth spurt hit, he went from lithe and lean to practically cut from marble; Bernhard, by contrast, lived a soft, indulgent life, and it showed in his physique. Caspar was  _ physically _ harder than his brother, as Randolph saw in sharp relief when at last the entire family dined together.

And, well, Randolph wasn’t exactly aware of what Bernhard was up to in that particular moment, but he could hardly imagine he was  _ harder _ than the searing-hot length grinding against his stomach as he pounded out his frustrations, literally and figuratively, inside his nephew.

Caspar had grown both upward and outward since they’d met. Randolph was reminded as much with every movement his nephew made; when his thighs clenched on either side of him, when he roared from deep in his chest, and when he flung his arms around Randolph’s neck and pressed his head down between his pecs. Caspar was loud, always loud, but Randolph hadn’t heard his voice  _ crack _ like this before.

It pitched up, then down, rarely forming real  _ words _ between fragments like “Un - cle” and “Ran-” but rarely falling, rarely faltering, tearing itself from Caspar’s throat even as Randolph mouthed over it. His vocal chords vibrated under his lips, then choked off when Randolph spread his jaws and bit. Caspar shuddered all over, then, without warning, released hotly between their stomachs, screaming anew until he fell quiet.

Caspar felt phenomenal. His body was overly responsive from lack of experience, and even now the contrast made Randolph’s head spin; they were both second in line in their own generation, they both worked hard for the recognition they got, but there was a world of difference between a weathered Imperial general and a fresh, virginal recruit.

“Uncle,” Caspar gasped, high and reedy and youthful. “Fuck.”

Caspar was not responsible for denying him the position he should, by all rights but antiquated systems of inheritance, have had. But oh, finding whatever petty revenge he could tasted  _ sweet -  _ as sweet as the salt lingering on Caspar’s skin.

Randolph began thrusting again without waiting for Caspar to finish catching his breath, and this time, Caspar’s voice tore out of him needy, whining, and utterly  _ shameless. _

Like father, like son, Randolph thought bitterly.


	10. HilCas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink meme fill!!! The original prompt is [here](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=800988#cmt800988) but the text of the prompt is as follows:
> 
> "Hilda's bored of the movie and she's horny. Hijinks ensue."

Hilda propped her feet up on the empty seat in front of her and sank down in her chair, exhaling in resignation. The first proper date she’d had in months, and Caspar had taken her to see a  _ kids’ _ movie.

Not that she didn’t like kids’ movies. She’d cried her eyes out all six times she’d watched  _ Coco _ over the course of quarantine. The problem was more with the fact that  _ Trolls: World Tour _ didn’t exactly mesh with the hopes she’d had for when she finally got to see her cute little beefcake in person.

Look, he couldn’t FaceTime her shirtless  _ that many times _ and expect her not to jump on his dick the first chance she got. She checked him out in the corner of her eye; she’d spent so much of quarantine just taking for granted that they’d both probably get a little softer around the middle from the inactivity, but she hadn’t taken into account that Caspar was a chronic fidgeter and probably spent every spare second doing  _ some  _ physical activity to wear himself out.

Suffice to say, yeah, his shirt was fitting a little tighter. But not the way she’d expected it to.

She sank a little farther down, at eye level with his bulging pecs by now, and kneaded her mound over her sweatpants while Caspar carried on, crunching his popcorn, bouncing his leg and completely oblivious. She ground a knuckle between her labia and groaned into her opposite hand, then took a moment to think. Fuck it, there was nobody else here - everybody else had watched this movie when it was available to stream.

Hilda slipped her hand beneath her waistband and started rubbing. She released a shuddering breath into her palm, then decided fuck  _ that _ too. Caspar was thick enough, she didn’t need to make it harder for him to recognize what she was up to.

She let her hand fall, curling her fingers over the long hem of her sleeve as she moaned, “Mmh,” and rubbed at her clit. Caspar had crossed his arms over his chest and she turned halfway onto her side to look at the new definition there, biting both lips around another drawn-out croon.

Caspar leaned over with his eyes still on the screen, speaking around a mouthful of popcorn. “D’you think I should get a refill or not?” he asked in a  _ terrible _ approximation of a whisper. Hilda pursed her lips.

_ “Caspar,” _ she grumbled, straightening her legs and wiggling them in the air. “Look.”

He looked. Popcorn flew into the air as he jumped. “Oh! Hilda,” he blurted, just the barest hint of laughter entering his voice. “C’mon, you can’t just wait?”

She gave him her best pout. “I waited for  _ months, _ Caspar,” she whined. She could almost see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt.

Slowly, delicately, he lowered his popcorn bucket to the ground. And then he opened his arms.

Hilda was on him in hardly a split second, grinding down and mouthing over his neck and delighting in how responsive he was.

She privately resolved to test just how fast they could get kicked out of there as she pried his first obnoxiously loud moan from him.


	11. Claurenz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER kink meme fill!!! I really wanted to write Lorenz getting wrecked suddenly and when I realized there was a prompt for foot fetish, another thing I've longed to write, well. It wrote itself p much. Find the prompt [here!](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=191964#cmt191964)
> 
> "Lorenz wants Claude to step on him. Your toes, Claude, hand them over."

Claude tilted his head at the very first press, his brow folding into a bemused frown and set off by his tilted smirk. “I’d ask if you’re kidding me,” he hummed, his toes spreading over the clothed shape of Lorenz’s rock-hard manhood, “but I guess your dick’s an even worse liar than you.”

He kneaded the ball of his foot into Lorenz’s groin, releasing a short, amused huff when Lorenz gasped. Oh, Lorenz couldn’t stand this - but however much he loathed bearing his most profound weakness to  _ Claude, _ the reward was exquisite - so much so as to be addicting.

“To lie is,” Lorenz breathed, hiccuping around a gasp as Claude adjusted his stance, guiding the arch of his foot up Lorenz’s length, his toes curling over the head when he reached it, “A-a most ignoble thing. It stands to reason that I am not well-practiced.”

Claude’s next laugh shook his shoulders with the force of it, but his voice was still level. “Well-practiced? ‘My  _ dearest _ Claude, I would never dream of besmirching my  _ noble _ name by participating in such debauchery. To do so would be to render my nobility forfeit’.” He sneered and  _ pressed _ the whole of his weight down, driving a shuddering gasp from Lorenz’s throat with the movement. “I’ve never known you to underexaggerate, Lorenz. I always thought you were more given to histrionics.”

His throat felt as if it were closing with the tension, forcing him to laboriously execute every breath faster and faster, each entering him as a gasp and departing as a moan. Claude wiggled his toes like he was offering him some perverse greeting.

“Hey, can I try something, Lorenz?” he said suddenly, and when Lorenz lifted his gaze he saw that his eyes were alight with opportunity. He offered no room for him to reply before falling back, pulling out Lorenz’s desk chair and depositing himself into it, crossing one leg over the other. He invited Lorenz over without so many words, only smirking half-smothered into his palm and crooking his fingers.

Lorenz swallowed past the swelling in his throat, levelling Claude with his closest approximation of a  _ devastating _ glare before forcing his limbs to cooperate. He had to knot his hands in his own bedspread to bring himself to his feet, his cock twitching in its confines, trapped in torturous humid heat.

“On your knees,” Claude drawled, and Lorenz obeyed. He wiggled his toes again, his eyes dancing with bright green mirth. “Wanna taste?”

The very suggestion made his breath hitch, his manhood throb. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him…

Claude’s foot was lovely, though, full of ridges and veins and tapering up to the tempting jut of his ankles. His nails were trimmed closely and each toe was capped with a dark patch of hair. Lorenz was drawn forward as if by pure magnetism, his lips parting - but only just, allowing him to press a kiss to the tip of Claude’s big toe before his tongue darted out. He tasted different here, earthly instead of salty, his skin that much more hardened for the wear -

“Ah,” he sobbed, pressing a hand to his groin as he released, his head falling forward, cradled by the curve of Claude’s foot meeting his shin. Bristly hair prickled at his cheek as he breathed rapidly in and out, lifting his gaze as he came down, seeking out his liege, his love.

Claude met his eye, his own as wide as saucers. He breathed a low, disbelieving laugh. “Huh.”

Lorenz swallowed the spare moisture in his mouth. “If you tell  _ anyone -” _

“Me? Tell someone?” Claude scoffed playfully, leaning forward over his crossed legs and speaking intimately into Lorenz’s space, “Never. Imagine what kind of  _ degenerates _ could use this information to their advantage.”


	12. Dimilix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a bit of a resolution for myself to do a mini-fill a day during this fill-a-thon (though I missed yesterday because I was finishing chapter two of Bow Ye Down.... Maybe I can make up for it twofold today!) and I've been scrubbing some of the earlier pages of the kink meme for it! I'm kind of shocked, there's some real gems buried in there.
> 
> At any rate! Find the original prompt [here.](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=5596#cmt5596)  
> "Felix is Dimitri's biological brother (I don't care how this comes about). Ages don't really matter to me, I just want incest fucking."

It was something Dimitri contemplated entirely too often. Felix was so precious to him, so dear. They were brothers born a mere two months apart, twins in all but one minute detail, one they surely could attribute to their fathers’ impatience above all else.

No, that wasn’t fair. Glenn  _ had _ been meant to be the last child Rodrigue ever delivered; it had been the doctors, not their fathers, that had declared he likely wouldn’t be able to become pregnant again.

And yet he had, a mere two months after they’d successfully completed an in vitro procedure with a mutual friend. The proof was lying warmly beneath Dimitri’s palm, his mouth hanging half-open, his long, dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Dimitri carefully dipped down, laying a soft, reverent kiss on one fluttering eyelid, startling as Felix grunted in his sleep.

Dimitri waited, stiff in every quarter, for Felix to awake; he didn’t, thank the goddess. He knew what Felix would say if he knew Dimitri was having these thoughts again - that their love was illicit enough as it was, and to wish it were  _ more _ incestuous was just stupid.

Perhaps Dimitri wouldn’t feel quite so desperate for further proof of their fraternity if they just looked more alike. Dimitri was every bit Lambert’s son, and Felix just as much so Rodrigue’s; the only sibling that looked like a proper mix was Glenn, but Dimitri didn’t like to think of Glenn in these moments. What would  _ he _ say to how sweetly Dimitri caressed Felix’s cheek, tittering faintly at the little twitch of his nose? What would  _ he _ say to what they had done the night prior, to what Dimitri longed to do again?

Dimitri was still nude, but Felix had wrapped himself in Dimitri’s sweatshirt before passing out, heedless as ever of the mess still smeared between his legs. Dimitri knew they needed to be more careful, but oh, there was something to the  _ shamelessness _ of it all, something that had him reaching for Felix’s slim form, seeking it out beneath the thick fabric of his sweatshirt underneath the covers. He brought his arm lower, breathing into the same space as his darling brother, feeling every part of him he could.

There was such romance to the thought of emerging from the same womb into the world, opening their eyes and their lungs and screaming at the same time. Perhaps it  _ was _ weird, just as Felix always told him. But perhaps sharing that most intimate of spaces would have prevented Dimitri from feeling this longing, pressing at him at all times, to be as close to Felix as he possibly could.

He could no longer bear it. He hiked himself onto his hands and knees and nudged Felix’s thighs apart, interlocking their bodies and just taking that moment to compare - Felix was smaller than him, in his hips and in his shoulders, and Dimitri had been told he was to grow even more in future. He turned his nose into Felix’s hair, barely held together in his familiar knot, and inhaled, smelling stale sweat and  _ Felix, Felix. _

“Oh, Felix,” he whimpered, rutting down, and Felix stirred as Dimitri nosed down the slope of his cheek. He knew that he was waking at last, moving back against him, groaning from deep within his chest, and the longing doubled, tripled. 

“‘Mitri,” Felix drawled, dark lashes parting for one stern, sharp eye, “Did you even sleep?”

Dimitri shamefully averted his gaze, clenching his fingers in the back of Felix’s - his - sweatshirt. “Only a little,” he admitted. “Just after we finished.”

Felix’s eye closed again, but Dimitri wasn’t so foolish as to believe he’d fall asleep again. “You’re thinking something stupid again.”

Dimitri laughed low. “Perhaps… But is it so misguided, just to fantasize?”

“Off.”

“Huh?”

His eye opened, searing Dimitri with the heat in that warm brown gaze. “Get off. On your back.”

Dimitri obeyed, bewildered until Felix forced himself up, stretching his arms out in front with his back arched like a cat. Then he mounted Dimitri’s torso with little fanfare, the sweatshirt doing very little to conceal his erection - or the sharpness of his stare.

“You are my brother,” he said, low and persistent, reaching back to clasp Dimitri’s stiff cock in one slender hand, “and the best damn lay I’ve ever had. Your idiotic fantasies about what could have been won’t change a thing.”

He guided Dimitri’s manhood between his cheeks, slotting it there and staring coolly down at his brother as Dimitri lay stiffly beneath him. “Do you see me pulling this with Glenn? Stupid,” he huffed, and Dimitri at last detected some affection in his tone.

“Wherever we came from, Dimitri,” he finished, bearing down, making Dimitri gasp, feeling his own release catching against his sensitive skin, “I chose  _ you. _ And don’t you dare make me second-guess.”


	13. Dimigard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for the fill-a-thon! I'm.... Kind of shocked this is the first dimigard in this grouping. What's with me not writing nearly enough of the OTP????
> 
> Anyway! Find the original prompt [here.](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=10716#cmt10716)  
> "Dimitri is up late because of training, when finally returning to his quarters after midnight he hears a muffled “scream” from Edelgard’ s room, overwhelmed with concern thinking she may be in trouble, his noble intent results in walking in in Edelgard masturbating. Does he watch?  
> Does he try not to? Does he join in? Preferably, all.
> 
> Preferences:  
> >inner guilt about watching and being turned in and “oh no I shouldn’t be thinking this she is technically my sister... although...”  
> >cindered shadows inspired that Edelgard doesn’t remember him is optional, but I’m just letting you know of it.  
> >maybe she’s fantasising about him for a double whammy  
> >embarrassment from both/either/one is nice"

“Please… oh,  _ please, _ Dimitri -”

Dimitri had made a grave error. He supposed he could only be grateful that Edelgard hadn’t heard him open the door to her room, spurred on by the high, nasal sound of her voice, a tone he’d never heard from her prior.

“Yes, flames, yes -”

He was shocked at how wantonly she let her voice tear from her throat, rough with want and half-muted by her pillow. She was on her front, her rear lifted into the air as she languidly thrust a polished wooden phallus into her…

Oh, it was lovely, speaking from glistening reddened lips nearly as overtly as she did from her mouth. Slick sounds of her arousal rang out amid her cries and Dimitri stared, entranced by it, how small and perfect it was between her pale thighs. The contrast was beautiful, as beautiful as striking red attire on her white skin, that puffy slit of blood red that called so loudly to him with every thrust of her toy.

His cock throbbed with her next groan, half his name peeling into the air before she cut herself off with a sharp “AHN” and turned her head, smothering another cry into her pillow. She had tied her hair up, but it was growing more sloppy as he watched, long tresses loosing themselves from their prison…

He should not have been here. But she had sounded so desperate, so... 

Dimitri stiffened as he heard footsteps in the hall behind him, panicked at the thought that he could be caught peeping so shamelessly. He stumbled into the room and shut the door behind him, desperate to conceal Edelgard’s secret - and she yelped and straightened, falling back onto her rear and squeaking even louder at how it drove her toy deeper into her.

“Hubert, I - knock!” she demanded, keeping her gaze deliberately averted and crossing her arms over her breasts, edging awkwardly toward the head of her bed, presumably to hide herself with the covers. Dimitri puzzled for a moment, then realized - surely, in the corner of her eye, his and Hubert’s physiques would indeed be difficult to tell apart. “I told you, no matter how urgent -”

“I’m not Hubert,” he admitted, and though he wanted more than anything to respect her privacy, he couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away; she looked so small like this, without the embellishment of her status, stripped all the way down to her most vulnerable self. It was as if he was looking at his dear sister El, not Edelgard, for the first time in years.

Oh, perhaps he shouldn’t have been thinking about that. The very thought made him swallow, his cock throbbing even harder.

Edelgard snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye; her entire face was brightest crimson, all the way up to her ears. “Dimitri,” she whispered, as if struggling to bring her voice back down into its usual register. “Is something the matter?”

He glanced down at the tent in his own pants, his heart pounding into his ears. “I heard your voice,” he admitted, shame penetrating his entire body. “And then, I couldn’t bear to look away.”

“So you heard.” She stated it, rather than asking. At long last, she shifted around to face him fully; she uncovered her breasts and he sucked in a deep breath. Her blush covered her chest, laying patchily down between each soft, pale mound, matching the flush color of her nipples. She let her arms lay over her stomach, pressing her small breasts together unintentionally, and heat flashed behind Dimitri’s eyes. “Come, then,” Edelgard ordered him, still forcing calm, her eyes glistening as she watched him.

He hardly realized that he was doing precisely as he was told until she was reaching for him, caressing him through his trousers and making him whimper. Each breath was high, humiliating, as she pulled him from his prison and gave him a cursory stroke, humming in approval, and proceeded to lie back.

She fished her toy from her cunt and let it fall onto the bed beside her, and Dimitri was entranced just looking at it - at the white streaks of her slick sticking at its sides, caught in the ridges, demonstrating to him just how aroused she had been at the thought of him.

“El…”

“Yes,” she gasped, pulling him into her, arching her neck, “That’s just what I like to be called.”

He shuddered as he pressed in, careful of how his gauntlet caught on her bare wrist.


	14. Dimilix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woocy did feet again, because Woocy has a problem. Except it's not a problem, I just really like foot stuff fjdsfljewqlkrj
> 
> This was another kink meme fill! I had the heroic idea in my head that I'd write a mini-fill for every day of the fill-a-thon, and I..... Didn't really do that. Eh, it's okay - doesn't mean I can't keep writing 'em. You can find the original prompt [here!](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=50140)
> 
> "Felix getting Dimitri off with his feet and being an awkward tsundere about it, that's all. I just want some wholesome foot fetish, please."

It was, in a variety of ways, the worst case scenario.

Dimitri glanced down at his lap, wincing at how Felix’s feet were crossed at the ankle mere  _ centimeters _ from his own straining erection. He could feel every aspect of them, the weight of them in his lap weighing on him, keeping him imprisoned right where he was, held taut as a bow. It seemed, no matter what he did to protect himself from detection by his old friend, he was doomed to draw attention to his condition.

He had never conceptualized himself as a… proponent. Of this particular brand of sexuality. To his mind, it was just that much of a thrill to know that Felix was at last willing to participate in this level of physical intimacy with him again. That thought made him release a shuddering breath, spare a glance at Felix’s face - it was partially hidden, as before, by his book - and roll his shoulders back, praying that the goddess would spare him the shame of being seen in this state.

And yet, his erection refused to back down.

Turn his mind to other things. Nothing could make him more flaccid than Gustave putting upon him to find a wife. Perhaps Rodrigue doing the same? Oh, but Rodrigue connected back to Felix, and Felix had his feet in his lap, and that was precisely the issue. Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.

And sharply gasped as he felt  _ something _ brush his cock.

His eyes flew open, just catching the brush of Felix’s big toe against his erection before it jerked away. He glanced, incredulous, in Felix’s direction, only to see him fully concealed behind his book, a scruffy pile of black hair with a book binding for a face.

Dimitri swallowed. He turned forward, exhaled, attempting to resume his count. An accident. Perhaps Felix had not noticed at all.

Another brush, and Dimitri’s gaze flew to Felix first. He caught him peeking over the edge of his book, brow furrowed and pale skin flushed red.

Felix’s eyes flickered up to meet his, then back to his lap. “What.”

“I -” Dimitri began, every bell in his mind ringing, deafening, drowning out all reasonable thought. “N-nothing.”

Felix’s toes curled. He uncrossed his ankles and moved, his toes flexing and relaxing next to Dimitri’s cock as if making the decision all by themselves. “Then stop staring,” Felix grumbled, at last pressing experimentally at Dimitri’s bulge, forcing another gasp past his lips. Felix briefly met his eyes again.

His mind was racing. It was a labor just to breathe, but Dimitri endeavored. “Yes,” he breathed, “Forgive me.”

He faced forward then, his arms lying straight at either side as Felix smoothed the ball of his foot up the side of his length. Oh, he had never before been so aroused, so delighted in another’s company. When Felix parted his toes around his girth, Dimitri twitched; when he hummed in appreciation, Dimitri shuddered.

Felix sank down in his seat, arching both legs - and  _ oh,  _ it was a gruesome battle in and of itself, forcing himself not to stare - and spreading them at the knee so he could see what he was doing - please don’t look, please don’t look - and wrapping either foot around him, pulling upward, inviting him to buck into that makeshift hold -

“Felix,” Dimitri whimpered, cowed immediately by the high tone of his voice, utterly shamed.

“Don’t cry,” Felix countered, turning his feet, spreading his knees even wider, and Dimitri whined. “Dimitri.”

“I’m s-sorry -”

“Don’t,” Felix mumbled, “do that either.”

Dimitri sighed into Felix’s next movement, forcing calm,  _ begging _ for calm, driven mad by Felix’s warmth, by the elegant curve of his ankles, by the invitation in the spread of his legs -

“You can finish,” Felix said, quiet, almost  _ shy, _ and Dimitri could’ve wept. His hips jerked upward as if of their own accord and his neck arched backward, forcing his mouth open in a silent cry.

It was humiliating. But it was... cleansing, he supposed, in its own way.

Felix edged forward as Dimitri came down, not quite in his lap but close, draping his legs over Dimitri’s and bending forward, settling his head on Dimitri’s shoulder. The contact made him shudder, and Felix glowered up at him.

“Not a word.”

Dimitri spared a glance at Felix’s groin, swallowing down his arousal at the sight of the bulge there. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and said, “No, never.”


	15. Ferdihardt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A silly little thing I wrote in celebration of Tuesday being June ninth, heh. There's a touch of dubcon here if you squint, so tread lightly if that's not your thing - if it is, don't sweat it!
> 
> At any rate, this is the last piece in this particular collection. I have felt a little weary of FE3H lately, but I'm not sure whether I'm completely done with it - I'm going to assume I'll have more of these to collect sooner rather than later. Perhaps even next Thursday!

Ferdinand’s tongue seemed as if it were tied in knots. As well-practiced as he considered himself in oralation - oraltion -  _ oration, _ words tangled with themselves as they passed through his lips, forcing him, for a moment, to stop and breathe.

He clenched his eyelids shut. “Linhardt,” he gasped, loud, too loud, and felt his classmate humming against his - yes, well, indeed - “You seem to - to misunderstand - I did not mean to solicit -”

“Perhaps not,” Linhardt replied, simple, silken, and Ferdinand felt an odd pulse of mingled jealousy and arousal spear through him. Every movement of his lips brushed the front of Ferdinand’s underwear, his trousers long since pulled down to his knees. “But alas, I mistakenly thought this could be a  _ fun _ way to at last shut you up.”

“You cannot,” Ferdinand gasped, bucking forward - oh, no, no, this was dreadfully embarrassing, he could not  _ stand _ this - “Y-you cannot dissuade me so easily! Your lack of effort - has a cost -”

“But I’m exerting myself  _ now,” _ Linhardt groused. “Is it not of equal importance for a commander to maintain their troops’ morale as it is to slaughter with efficiency?”

“I - you cannot -” Ferdinand struggled. Linhardt’s mouth was on him again, Linhardt himself tugging at his smalls now, kissing away at his dripping head as the base of his - his  _ cock _ was slowly revealed. He whimpered at the first brush of skin against skin when his manhood sprung free, overwhelmed and desperate. “Y-you cannot hope to - to motivate  _ every _ troop in your battalion this way,” he managed, closing his eyes once more.

He felt a foreign hand encircling his cock, saw Linhardt’s gently drooping eyes even before he realized he’d reopened his. Linhardt licked his lips, blinking slowly up at him as if contemplating something. “Not this way, no,” he finally answered, “But let us not forget, I have another hole for that purpose. Perhaps even two or three, if I’m feeling creative. I’m sure I’ll have no trouble entertaining them.”

Linhardt kissed Ferdinand’s head then, sucking it between puckered lips, and Ferdinand’s knees shook, threatening to buckle beneath him; his hands scrabbled for purchase against the door to Linhardt’s room as he sucked in a belabored breath and attempted to speak, to arrange syllables into anything  _ remotely _ serving his intended purpose there.

Linhardt pulled back and clicked his tongue. “Really, Ferdinand,” he said, sounding at once exasperated and affectionate, and suddenly he was standing, eliciting yet another whine - no,  _ no, _ he was most certainly not disappointed. This was progress.

He took a moment to catch his breath, studying Linhardt as he placed a bracing hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the bed. “I am glad to see you are willing to listen,” he began, but faltered as Linhardt guided him back onto the mattress, fiddling with his own trousers.

“Listen? Hardly. You think entirely too much of me,” Linhardt countered, dropping his pants without further comment. Ferdinand’s eyes went wide at his lack of underclothes in addition to the cock hanging heavily between his legs - and even wider when Linhardt swung a leg over his head and straddled Ferdinand’s face. “I’m just hoping to shut you up. Here’s hoping this attempt is more successful than my last,” he hummed, guiding the tip of his impressive manhood to Ferdinand’s lips.

He had been tricked! Ferdinand gaped in shock - and that proved a mistake in and of itself, because Linhardt drove his hips lower, crossing the threshold into Ferdinand’s mouth.

It tasted of - of skin, first and foremost, but there was a certain heat lingering at his lips, wrinkling his brow and driving him forward. He heard a pleased little hum from Linhardt, and then a familiar wet heat engulfed his own cock.

He gasped through his nose, tasting the weight of Linhardt on his tongue, the entirety of his field of vision engulfed in pale skin and dark green hair. He closed his eyes and pushed forward, feeling how Linhardt’s tip pushed past his tongue, meeting the back of his throat, scenting him in this most intimate of places -

Perhaps this  _ was _ a valid boost to morale, Ferdinand reflected, and Linhardt’s thighs twitched.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> [Follow me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/glittergluwu)


End file.
